


With every heart beat

by Moonrose001



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, I really am, I'm Sorry, M/M, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose001/pseuds/Moonrose001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve isn’t fragile. They know that. They also know that he had undergone torture during WW2 a couple of times and it had never broken him like this before. And they see it, Steve fighting through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With every heart beat

The Avengers all avoid talking for a while. It is a surprise to see Steve join them for breakfast. After all it is a long time ago that he willingly joined social interactions and the reasons for that are more than reasonable. But the Steve they once knew shows a bit as they stuff in their toast, because hey, the guy is _trying_. As always he tries.

The bruises have faded away long ago, the regenerating cells sparing them from the sight. But the ghost of fingers around his strong throat, the many tubes and cuts and marks of restraining chains lingers to their vision anyway. The azure eyes are the same color as always, but a shadow seems to have made them darker anyway. Steve doesn’t look at any of them, even his direct, straightforward eye contact taken away from him. They see him tense up when Thor passes him too closely, but he really tries to not show his unease and they know that this is more than hard for him.

Steve eats tasteless loafs of bread, downs some water and vitamins. He used to not understand the concept of them; why eat pills of nourishments if you could just eat what your body needed most naturally? But something as fresh and natural as an orange makes Steve pale these days.

Over time the Avengers are able to start slow conversations. They mostly focus on small talk. Their subtle attempt of making him feel safe, does not pass him though, and he looks guilty and in pain when he leaves. More guilt is the last thing they need him to feel right now.

\----

Meeting up on the Helicarrier with Fury shakes Steve up a bit. He seems distanced but his mind is sharp and focused and it is an edge they haven’t seen for a long time. The closest to a _presence_ they’ve seen for a long time.

\----

Steve isn’t fragile. They know that. They also know that he had undergone torture during WW2 a couple of times and it had never broken him like this before. And they see it, Steve fighting through it. Through the angst, the anxiety, the disgust and the god forbidden guilt. They don’t really know what to do, so they try talking to him about it, since he will not accept the offers of a shrink.

Natasha has never been violated in that way; her skill was too high for anyone to ever get that close. But she talks about how she had to do things she didn’t want to do. Thor talks about his most inner feelings, dark thoughts he carefully hasn’t exposed to anyone, despite his open being: Loki’s betrayal. How he for the first time felt the deep pits of self disgust, of hurt, of self-hatred and the paradox of wanting to protect someone he had to fight, who wanted to hurt him. Even Clint gets into a very quick and awkward conversation about a harassing manager, who Clint had resorted to punching down, but how exposed and uncomfortable he had felt and how he had learned to live with that for a while. Steve listens to them, and fortunately their indirect talk doesn’t trigger anything. Most of the Avengers baring themselves make him look and act strong. He always becomes strong for the sake of being strong for other people.

For a while they give him space, but when Jarvis starts alarming them about nightmares they feel helpless and useless, because it was usually Steve who knew what to do in these cases. Steve has never mentioned it, but he had used to give them mental first aid after a violent and traumatizing situation, and the trivial way his arms held you and how convincingly he told you things were or were going to be alright, told them it had been a habit once, a daily duty. Steve knew how to give people their space; he knew how to walk on the thin line of someone barely holding it together. He knew how to go into you, without ruining or touching all of the fragile things living inside.

The six months he had been gone had been Hell. Natasha had tried her best, but in the end she had given up on being a leader. The Avengers were family, but they were also a group of difficult people. When Bruce started Hulking out frequently only to lock himself up afterwards, when Clint started distancing himself in that vulnerable bastard kind of way and Tony fell into bad habits involving being an asshole and taking stupid risks, no one listening to her, she had had to give up. Thor took over. His warm personality gathered them as much as they possibly could, and Tony took over strategies on the field. Of course that left to a lot of property damage and unnecessary explosions, a lot of personality clashes, but things got done.

Tony. During the six months of Steve being missing, Tony’s search had become a very private, worrying matter. It wasn’t that they all hadn’t been looking. Hell, Steve would have been disappointed about their methods. Natasha had done some stuff and went to bed with people, Clint had gone undercover in facilities causing him psychically and mental injuries, Thor had called upon magicians in Asgard. They found a trail, and slowly, but surely they had came closer. Even S.H.I.E.L.D. had reached out to people they’d rather just watch from a distance. Bruce had tried to do as much as he could, but after three months he went ways which didn’t consider his temper. They needed Steve as much as a leader and friend as support. He was the glue, the calm presence which settled all of them down. Everybody needed a person to forgive you, a person to tell you what was right when it was most difficult, even if that person was annoying. Tony had been searching as desperately as the rest of them, but he had done it discreetly, trying to hold it together and not show weakness. But when they started finding empty scotch bottles everywhere, when the dark rings and thinning health was too appearent, it became too clear that Steve’s absence had affected Tony the most. When they had tried to reach out, Tony had snapped. Tony didn’t want to talk about it.

\---

They had found Steve in Switzerland. Bound to an examination couch. He wore obvious signs of torture. Security footages confirmed them in this and also told them about the experiments, the surgeries. It seemed they had figured out that Steve didn’t go into shock when he was cut open, and that had saved them the trouble of trying to sedate him with huge amounts of anesthesia.

Tony was the one who had found him, lying on his side, his back bare and bruised. Blood and white fluids rolling down his thighs. Tony had thrown up and cried in rage. It wasn’t that Tony and Natasha were for killing, but revenge was burning them like acid in their guts. But Bruce, having Quinjet-duty, had protested through the com, tried to stop them and talk them out of it. Thor shook his head, watching his vindictive teammates with centuries old sadness and oddly enough Clint had agreed with him: “Killing them all isn’t what Steve would have wanted.”

\---

Over time Steve relaxes around other people, in his uniform. His sassy comebacks are back, the charming smiles. The Steve they had known started appearing from the hollow shadows.

The Steve they had found … When Steve Rogers attacked you with the intention of killing and without hesitation something was very wrong. He had almost hacked Iron Man into pieces when Tony had released him from the examination couch. Bruce had heard the struggles through the com and it was Hulk who had broken into the lab and had had to hold Steve back, while Natasha tried to bring Steve back to earth. But his eyes were two wounds in his face, violently screaming of memories, of fear. Even when they had convinced him they were real, he obviously had trouble with self control. On the ride back to New York he had tried to choke Thor to death when the god had tried wake him up from a nightmare.

After that Steve had locked himself into a storage room. They didn’t speak while they heard him strangle his gasping, and they didn’t comment on the sight of his bloody knuckles when they got off the Quinjet in New York. Next day Tony walked in with a torch and some other equipment to straighten the fist-formed dents on the metal walls, so no S.H.I.E.L.D.-agent could find them and demand Steve in custody because he was a potential threat.

Hell, afterwards Steve had even convinced them of walking around armed for a while. “Convince” in being the first words he had uttered since they had found him. They hadn’t liked it, but if Steve thought himself untrustworthy and it would make him feel better, they would have done anything.

\---

The first time Steve touches any of them again is with Clint. Clint had come back from a S.H.I.E.L.D.-mission, once again enraged by their methods. It had involved in sacrificing lives for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s interests.

Now, they all knew that that wasn’t the only reason. Walking on tip toes in your home because of broken super soldier, the stress which hadn’t left Clint from losing Coulson, his guilt from splitting the Avengers apart when Steve had been taken and they had needed to be together the most … There had been a lot of factors causing his outrage.

Natasha knows him best and she knows that there was nothing for her to do, but let Clint get it all out. But Steve, creeping out of his room, crossed the gym and pulled Clint into his one armed hug. Clint had stiffened and Steve had tried to not show how much this cost him. In the end Clint had dropped his fists and gotten loose, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. It had been to help Steve too.

\---

Tony nodds. “Ok, turn it off.” Slowly he is lowered onto the floor and he gets out of the jet boots.

As he turns around to return to his desk, he jumps back to find Steve at the door. Tony automatically feels after his gun on his hip and then stops, guilt ridden, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind the movement despite certainly having noticed it.

“Hey,” Tony says, casually leaning into his desk with a relaxation they both know isn’t there.

“Hey,” Steve answers evenly, his eyes calmly meeting Tony’s and Tony judges this to be one of his good days. Not that there were a lot of bad ones these days. Steve leaves the door sill and takes a seat on the couch and actually looks at ease. Maybe because he knew that he could overpower Tony before Tony could have time to attack. Not that Tony ever would. Especially after the kidnapping.

Tony blinks and shakes the thought off him. Of course Steve didn’t think like that. Anymore.

“What’s up?” Tony asks, pretending nonchalance. They had had a pretty close relationship Before, but since Steve came back Tony had acted and been neutral to give Steve a stable environment. No one had expected that of him, he knew.

Steve shrugs and for a second Tony can think that everything is like it used to be. But where Steve before had been a loose, smooth figure, his movements now always own some degree of stiffness. In the beginning he had looked really uncomfortable, his limps stiff, muscles tense and ready to fight. Now the stiffness is a shadow, only there if you look for it. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

Tony glances furtively at the digital watch. Oh. Was it that late already? “Well, Steve, I can tell you that I am the perfect person to help you with that. I will either bore you with my explanations to sleep with awesome science or charm my way into your pants.”

Motherfucking crap. Tony could’ve punched himself. In his attempts at relaxing he had done what he did like breathing: He flirted.

_He was dead._

Slowly he backs away to show that he means no harm and avoids meeting Steve’s eyes as a primitive, but effective gesture of submission. Instead of the quick retreat, maybe even an attack, he expected, he hears a quiet: “I will take the second option then.”

Still not daring to look directly at Steve, Tony’s eyes search for something to focus on. “I’m sorry… what?”

He hears Steve get up and can’t help but back away as Steve comes closer. A few meters away from the desk which separates them Steve finally stops and his voice is mild when he says: “Please look at me, Tony. I won’t hurt you. You won’t hurt me.”

See, there is a reason why Tony has avoided getting close to Steve again. Where the other Avengers had no intention of ever exposing Steve to anything close to what he had endured during imprisonment, Tony was different. He had lusted after Steve more than once, followed Steve with hungry eyes and not only because of the six-pack or the broad shoulders or that firm ass. Steve was just … there. He was something, someone, who filled out something Tony missed inside, and Steve didn’t only fill it out, he expanded himself and was just… _so there_. So much. So always. He was the light in the dark side of Tony, and Before Tony had waited, been patient, because he didn’t want to scare Steve away, didn’t want Steve to think that Tony wasn’t serious enough.  Tony had wanted to make sure that Steve not only considered Tony a formidable lover, but also a good partner, a reliable confident. He had wanted to move steadily and then those people _had taken Steve and_ –

“Tony,” Steve calls out and he sounds helpless.

Tony finally looks up, and Steve’s eyes are not exactly hurting, but lost. “I need you to give it to me,” he asks and Tony feels a deep ache inside of him, something wistful and shameful and scared, something he had tried to drown in a tub, to abandon forever, when he had seen the state Steve was in. Surely Tony could kill all hopes of ever having Steve after That.

“Steve – “Tony begins, because he knows that if Steve keeps asking, Tony will give him what he wants, even if it is stupid and bad, even if Tony will lose Steve completely because of it.

“I knew. Okay. I was aware of how you looked at me. Still look at me.” Steve’s tone is careful and glacial.

Tony feels himself pale and looks away again, because this is the last thing he wants.

“And I wanted you too,” Steve chokes out and that makes Tony look up at him again. Steve appears as if he’s trapped in his own skin. It’s an unfamiliar look on him. Tony knows that the Super Soldier body fits Steve’s personality better than the scrawny one Tony has seen in Steve’s file.

Steve’s eyes are shining brightly as he squirms and forces himself to meet Tony’s eyes. “I never thought that I’d… that _It_ would happen. I never thought they would be able to take _so much_.”

“It’s okay,” Tony hurries to say as Steve starts hyperventilating. “It’s ok. We will… we will figure something out.” But honestly Tony doesn’t believe that he will ever have Steve like he once could.

Steve senses Tony’s thoughts, because his face seems to break open. “I’m mad, because they ruined me that way,” he tells Tony, sounding confused. “Because _I let them_.”

“No Steve!” Tony shouts and within seconds he’s holding Steve’s face. “This wasn’t your fault. Listen to me, _it_ _wasn’t_. If I could do anything, turn back time. I would. Oh God, _Steve._ ”

“So give it to me, Tony,” Steve angrily demands, while he fights to keep his shaking hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Don’t let them take me. Don’t let me let go. I want you. I need you. I love you. I can’t let them take that away from me, because I’m _scared_ …”

And goddamn it, when Steve begged that way, when Tony just wants to give everything he has to fix what he let get broken… It felt wrong. At least Tony had the decency to feel that when he smashed their lips together. Steve exhales a broken, shattering sob and then he’s clinging to Tony in a mix of force and endless shivers. Tony eases the kiss, makes it gentle and eventually Steve slides away from the edge, though he’s still unsteady in Tony’s grasp. Tony lets go when Steve’s tongue licks Tony’s lips for entry, and he reassuringly meets Steve’s eyes when Steve blinks quickly. “Slow,” Tony lowly says.

Steve silently nods and his eyes aren’t wet anymore. Those clean oceans are clear for the first time in a long time. At best they’re usually uneasy and at worst they’re obviously full of weary fear. He’s breathing steadily as if a pressure has been weighing down his chest. His hands aren’t clasping or fighting to restrain themselves. Shadows of the Steve Before show when he gently slides his hands down to the small of Tony’s back and up to hold Tony’s shoulders. One of them rubs a thumb on Tony’s neck before they both encircle his shoulder blades and slides down Tony’s sides. Tony involuntarily sighs because he has missed this, this intimate closeness, this relief of not walking on needles around Steve.

Steve pushes soft kisses on Tony’s open mouth, kisses the side of his mouth, his bearded chin and Steve’s pecks becomes openmouthed sucks when he leaves a curl-shaped pattern of kisses down Tony’s neck. Tony fights to have his hands stay put, where Steve can feel them. When Steve starts tugging on Tony’s shirt, Tony willingly pulls it off. Steve serenely lowers himself and bites Tony’s nipple, causing a surprised hitched breath. Unwavering Steve knots it with his tongue, kisses it and sucks until it’s almost stings and then continues downwards, buttoning up Tony’s pants. Tony has let Steve do what he wanted, but when he sits completely naked with Steve fully closed he can’t help but feel slightly vulnerable. Steve pulls back and his eyes are hungry with lust and something else Tony can only describe as assuring as he stares at Tony. Tony lets him look for half a minute before reaching out and Steve meets him, buttoning up his shirt and taking it off. He’s starts shaking slightly again when Tony inspects his skin, but he doesn’t waver or pull away. When Tony stops he urges Tony on with a longing sound coming from his stomach.

After that Steve does the unexpected. He dives down again and swallows Tony whole. Tony can’t help but moan, tries to do it silently and Steve sucks on him a few times before returning to Tony’s mouth, kissing it swollen before he put it beside Tony’s air, whispering: “I want you inside me.”

Tony’s not sure what he feels right there. All he knows is that it occurs to him how confidently and not bad Steve had sucked him. That Steve seems used to this.

That what had had happened with Steve hadn’t only been one time or simple. Steve had gotten used to it, had been trained. And Steve needed it now. Nasty images pop up in Tony’s head. _Sex slave_ were words he was familiar with, a positive feeling always following along. But now it feels cold, because the words are meant in literal sense and not with consent. The “sex slaves” he had known and played around with had done it for fun, because it turned them on. _They had wanted to_.

Tony realizes that Steve is reading his expression and he probably sees everything Tony is thinking, because his eyes have turned sad. Tony shakes his head. “I’m not sure… No, I don’t think this is... I can’t…”

Steve doesn’t respond right away. He still looks at Tony with those weary eyes. Then he leans forwards and hoarsely whispers “Please Tony” into Tony’s ear and his hips starts grinding into Tony’s, cheap denim rough against the sensible skin. “I need you. Inside me. So much. Please.”

Tony hesitates. He knows that this is something Steve wants, but Tony is afraid that Steve starts combining this they have now with those six months, those assaulters. Tony is afraid Steve is using him in some kind of way of punishing himself. He’s afraid Steve really isn’t Steve anymore, that he needs this for reasons Tony’s not sure he wants to think about.

Before Tony decides anything, Steve is groaning against his neck, biting it softly. His pants are gone, Tony realizes and he’s sitting on his fingers, a lube on Tony’s lap. Steve has already begun and Tony doesn’t know what to do, he feels like just pulling away and stopping this. It was a too insecure, sore area, there were too many risks, too much to lose. But he feels like he will fail Steve if he tries to run, he feels like Steve will take that final fall if Tony isn’t there now. So the dark-haired man pulls Steve into him and softly says “Hold onto me” and Steve is tightly clinging to him, their chests sliding against each other for every time he raises his hips and lowers himself on his hand. Tony reaches out and pulls apart the cheeks, making Steve groan deeper and Tony’s hand finds its way towards Steve’s hardened cock. Tony gently caresses it and the soldier writhes impatiently, not stopping his pace though it feels like he wants to thrust into Tony’s hand.

“Talk to me,” Tony prompts growling into Steve’s collarbone. “Say my name.”

Steve is slowly riding his fingers now and it feels like he doesn’t hear Tony. Then he moans deeply and whispers a soft: “Tony…”

“More,” Tony begs, because Steve seems so far away, his eyes closed and his body in a fog of arousal. Tony needs to dig him out, draw Steve close to him.

“Tony,” Steve says more firmly, finally opening his eyes and meeting his. Steve looks almost relieved when he sees Tony and Tony ponders what Steve had been thinking, feeling, imagining in his haze. “ _Tony_.”

“Yes,” Tony growls, and their eyes don’t tear apart. Tony pulls gently bites Steve’s lower lip, licks it and Steve slows his rhythm, so he can lean forwards and deepen the kiss, his tongue tasting Tony like it was the first time.

Steve pulls back and readjusts his hips a bit, then moans. He has entered a third finger, Tony realizes and Tony strokes him slowly, making Steve twist.

“Talk to me,” Steve whimpers, his eyes falling shut again, his face starting to form lines of fear and panic.

“I love you,” Tony says. “I need you. I want you. You’re so beautiful like this. Look at me.”

Steve does and Tony takes a hold of his hips, deciding the pace to a slower one. Their precome is making the slide slippery and Tony takes them both in his hands. Steve cries out in pleasure as he strokes them.

“Now,” he heavily breathes, looking at Tony with needy eyes. “I want you now.”

“Let me take care of you first,” Tony says and gently gets Steve his back on the couch, only to touch him and caress him in a way that makes Steve shiver again and his eyes become more present than ever. Tony kisses Steve’s inner thighs, before licking his length and the gentleness makes Steve growl.

“Tony,” Steve moans out desperately. “Tony, Tony, _Tony_.”

The scientist lets Steve call out until it sounds like Steve means it. Only when Steve says his name in a demanding tone, Tony realizes that Steve has also called out to Tony with longing, like Tony was a dream Steve thought wasn’t real.

“I got you. I’m here,” he assures, clasping Steve’s hand. Steve looks at him, his eyes glowing of something like the pain of healing. “I’m going to enter.” Tony says it as a question and Steve nods, actually looking like he wants it, like he’s ready.

Tony opens his legs further and gently pushes inside. Steve’s spine curves lightly and his hands fight to stay in one place, fight to not clasp and Tony utters: “Hold on to me.”

Steve finally does and Tony knows bruises, finger imprints will be there tomorrow. Tony pushes until he is all the way inside and waits in that position to let Steve adjust to the stretch. Except for his quick breathing, Steve’s silent and Tony is whispering reassuring words to him as they kiss again and again, until Steve lets go of his tight grip and says: “ _Move_.”

Neither one of them breaks eye contact as Tony does, only when Steve leans his head backwards to close his eyes and moan repeatedly, his being shaking and a light layer of sweat shining on his forehead.

“I love you,” Tony whispers again and again, pulling Steve into him and not only physically. “God, I love you.”

The answer is a whimper and Tony spreads Steve’s legs and rolls him back further, making Steve moan out louder. The position gave better entrance and Steve didn’t seem to mind it. Tony knows he’s just as flexible as Natasha, and in this way their eyes are on the same level. Tony focuses on Steve and pushes his own needs, the burning in him aside, so he can feel every bit of Steve, sense, listen to every one of his ragged breaths.

Steve obviously enjoys it, but Tony suspects that his consciousness tries to drift off several times. It leaves Tony bitter, leaves him frustrated to almost tears, because it seems like Steve’s heart automatically tries to get far away, while his body took pleasure in a way which told Tony that _it was used to it_. But Steve opens his eyes, sensing his drifting himself.

“I love you, Tony,” he moans. “I want you. I want you so much. You’re so good inside me… More… _Harder_. Tony…!”

Steve started clenching, and Tony, sensing climax, grabs Steve’s shaft and jerks him off in a few harsh strokes, finishing it with a gliding thumb over the head. Steve cries out as he comes and Tony lets himself follow a few thrusts later. Steve’s breathing slowly as Tony collapses on top of him, finding his mouth and sloppily Steve returns the kiss, his legs wrapping themselves around Tony. Tony gets the hint and stays put and they lay there a bit, tightly wrapped into each other. Tony’s listening to Steve’s heart, and Steve’s completely relaxed, his arms holding Tony.

“Are you all right?” Tony then asks, looking up to meet Steve’s halfclosed eyes as the blond looks down at him. Tony already feels guilty. This was happened too soon, had gone too quickly. “Is this okay?”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve reassuringly responses and holds Tony’s head still, so he can place a kiss on his forehead. After that he falls back into the couch’s pillow. Tony hates that he didn’t even take Steve to bed. His workshop all too well reminds Tony about the lab they had found Steve in. “I’m glad,” Steve adds.

Tony lifts his head to observe Steve again.

“In there,” Steve then says and he blinks slowly. “I don’t feel like I’m in there anymore.”

Tony feels himself go still.

“I’m … free,” Steve slowly utters, like he can’t believe it. It’s a conclusion with a stroke of disbelief. He seems to loosen even more when he says it out loud.

Tony nods. “You are.”

Steve lifts himself up on his elbows and looks at Tony, evaluating. “Thank you.”

Tony has no idea what he is being thanked for. But he doesn’t feel like making this a discussion, none of the more a fight. So he just slowly blinks and nods again. “Steve,” he says, almost whimpering and he curls his arms around Steve’s neck and presses his face into the curve of Steve’s neck and shoulder. It fits perfectly. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve strokes his hair. “This wasn’t your fault. I asked for this.”

“At that time, Before… If I had followed your plan…”

“If you had, Natasha, Clint and I would have been dead,” Steve says, his voices harsh. “This isn’t your fault. I’m just happy it’s over. I feel like I can move on now. Things will be fine.” Steve locks their eyes together and he gives a lopsided smile. “ _We_ will be fine.”

And in this case Tony just has to believe that.       

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm sorry.


End file.
